


New Heart

by dana_kujan



Category: Newhart, Wizards and Warriors (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1987-08-22
Updated: 1987-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-11 05:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dana_kujan/pseuds/dana_kujan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariel Baaldorf finds herself trapped in another woman's body in the Stratford Inn in Vermont.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally published in the Wizards &amp; Warriors genzine [The Monocle](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Monocle) #2 around 1987.

If they kept it up much longer, someone was bound to get killed.

Dirk Jabbed, Erik swung, Dirk parried. It was like a dance with no music.

Nobody would die. No one ever died. No one was ever wounded. Not that Ariel wished either of the two handsome princes any harm. She just longed for a little new excitement in her life. Maybe a little romance.

Things had been the same for so long. The war, the fighting, the kidnappings (of which she was always the victim). It was getting so that whenever Vector showed at Castle Baaldorf, she would put aside whatever she was doing, ask him how the weather up north was, grab the appropriate cloak and her vanity case, and go off with him quietly.

Eventually, as the story went, Erik would show up and rescue her. Then he and Dirk would begin their dancing.

Dancing. It would be silly to call it anything more because anyone could see that each knew the other's movements as well as he knew his own.

The only way one could die from dancing would be to drop from exhaustion; the way Marko had several years ago. Ariel missed that large vassal, especially at times like these. Vector was certainly no company.

Ariel sighed, bored with the scene.

"Dancing," Ariel sighed.

When was the last time Erik had danced with her? When was the last time he had asked her to a ball or shown up at one her family was giving? Why, even in the middle of her birthday party he had galloped off to save some little township from a dragon. And she didn't care what her father said, it was rude. It was certainly no way for a man to treat his fiancée.

"Fiancée," Ariel sighed. Beside her, Vector yawned and dropped his hand down to her elbow. It suddenly struck Ariel that Vector's hands had touched her many more times than Erik's ever had. (A queasy notion, but true.) Erik even neglected the courtly greeting of a kiss on the wrist in the interest of "not pushing the betrothal."

They would never marry out of the desire he had once spoken of if she was forced to do all the desiring.

Ariel was really miffed at Erik. She was the most beautiful woman in the history of time and he treated her like an ugly cousin. Someone he was obligated to rescue out of some silly sense of duty. Where was his sense of fun? His sense of sight? A pretty young damsel in perpetual distress needed to be showered with gifts and affection-- mostly gifts. She needed moonlight serenades, masquerade balls, picnics, carnivals, parlor teas! In short, she needed romance.

Ariel stamped her foot in frustration. Much to her surprise, Vector let out a howl and unhanded her. This was her chance-- to escape _and_ to snub Erik. He could dance with Dirk all night for all she cared. Picking up her skirt, she darted for the staircase.

But Ariel didn't know the dance. She didn't know Erik was about to step back. Her foot hadn't quite reached the first step when their shoulders collided. Ariel found herself tumbling down the narrow staircase. Tumbling, and tumbling, and tumbling…

* * * * *

"Is the doctor coming?"

"Yeah, yeah. He's on his way."

"Oh, it's my fault. I should have carried that basket down the stairs like she asked."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, George."

"But it was my fault."

"George! It wasn't your fault that she kicked at the basket and missed."

It was strange, dreaming without images. Ariel wished the voices would shut up. They were giving her an awful headache.

"Look! I think she's waking up. Stephanie. Stephanie, wake up!

Ariel felt herself being prodded. She opened her eyes. Once. Twice. She caught a glimpse of a blonde.

"Keep talking, Joanna. I think she's coming to."

"Stephanie? Stephanie! Honey, get me a wet cloth from the bathroom."

Ariel opened her eyes to a woman, plain and blonde, bending over her.

"Who are you?" Ariel asked. Her voice was small and she was so drowsy. The woman's face kept blurring.

"Stephanie, you know who we are. I'm Joanna and this is George."

"Stephanie?" Ariel said. She wished she could wake up completely, but it was hard. Her head hurt. "Who's Stephanie?"

"That's your name, Stephanie," this from George, a dopey-looking guy in an even dopier-looking hat. "Don't you remember?"

"Here's the cloth, Joanna." A second man with the eyes of a kicked hound appeared over Joanna's shoulder.

"Who is Stephanie?" Ariel demanded weakly. "And who are you"

"Oh Dick, I'm worried. She keeps saying things like that."

"Do you think she has amnesia?"

"It's worse than that, Dick/," George said. "I don't think she remembers anything."

"Well, ask her what she does remember. I'll see if the doctor's here yet."

Joanna applied a cool wet cloth to Ariel's brow. "What do you remember?"

Ariel closed her eyes and tried to think. Several images flashed through her mind. Dirk's castle. Vector's yawn. Erik!

"That idiot. I must have fallen."  
"Hey Joanna, she remembers met!" George exclaimed.

"Of course, I don't remember you," Ariel said, opening her eyes. "Now would you mind telling me what you people are doing…"

But they weren't "here" Ariel realized as she woke up more fully. This room was not her bedroom and it was certainly not a room Prince Blackpool would have in his castle. The strangers around her weren't normal strangers either. The man's hair was too short; the woman's too loose for a maidservant. Both were dressed in a bizarre fashion-- Joanna shamefully so with her knees peeking out from under her skirt. The princess looked down at herself curiously, finding her perfect frame rigged out in a flower print Jersey and tight black pants. Obviously, the strangers weren't "here;" she was "there."

Ariel sat up, growing frightened. "Where's Erik? What have you done with him? Erik! Erik!" she called, making to get to her feet.

Joanna pressed her back down the bed. "Now, Stephanie, you've had a bad fall. You need to rest."

"Who's Erik?" George asked dimly.

"She's right here," Dick said as he pushed open the door. Fast on his heels was a white-haired gentleman.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here, Dr. Davis," Joanna said. She surrendered her chair to Davis as she explained, "She's talking out of her head. We think she might have amnesia."

"I'm the doctor," the old coot grumbled, seating himself. "I'll make the diagnosis. Now! Who have we here?"

"We have Princess Ariel Baaldorf!" Ariel announced, "and we would like to go home."

"And where is home, young lady?"

"Castle Baaldorf, you idiot. Where else would I live?"

"Of course." Davis frowned. He leaned toward Dick. "Has she been reading any 'Harlequin Romances' lately?"

"Oh, I love those," George chimed in.

"Stephanie doesn't read anything except 'Vogue,' " Joanna whispered.

"I see." Davis stretched his hand toward Ariel, who leaned away from him. He leaned forward and Ariel scooted over on the bed.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to examine you." Davis relaxed in his chair. "That's an awfully nasty bruise you have on your temple. How do you suppose that got there?"

George bent down to Davis. "She fell down the steps."

"If you don't mind," Davis grumbled, "I'd like her to tell me."

"But I did fall down the stairs," Ariel said.

"And how did you come to do that?" Davis prompted.

"I didn't come to do that. I don't know how I got here. All I remember is bumping into Erik and boom!"

"Who's Erick?" Dick asked.

"She must mean Michael," Joanna whispered.

"Where am I anyway?" Ariel wanted to know.

"Take a good look around you,' Davis said. "Doesn't this room look familiar to you?"

Ariel's eyes swept the chamber, already knowing that she would answer, "No."

"Doesn't anything in this room look familiar to you?" Davis persisted. "Anything at all?"

"No!" Ariel snapped. "I'm not in the habit of familiarizing myself with dumps."

"Dumps!" Dick exclaimed with some offense.

"Dumps?" Joanna wondered, fingering Stephanie's own Tiffany lamp.

"This room is no bigger than the poorest peasant's shack " Ariel continued conversationally. "Where am I anyway?"

"That's for you to tell us," Davis stated.

Ariel crossed her arms and leaned back against the headboard. She thought a minute, looking about the room. Her eyes settled back on Davis. "Give me a hint."

Davis opened his mouth speak, probably to say he couldn't give her a hint, but Dick spoke up first.

"Pardon me for saying so, Doctor, but this is ridiculous. She obviously doesn't remember anything."

"I wasn't aware that you had a degree in psychiatry, Mr. Loudon," Davis said. "Perhaps you'd like to give it a try."

"Well, I couldn't do any worse." Dick leaned over the doctor's chair and addressed the young woman he knew as Stephanie. "Stephanie, you're in your own room."

Ariel stared at the puppy-eyed man blankly. This was not her own room. She was not this Stephanie person. And if this was this Stephanie person's room, she pitied her. The place could cramp a mouse.

"At the Stratford Inn," Dick prompted.

Erik didn't allow them to stay over in inns for fear of sullying her reputation. She held Dick's gaze, thinking him a filthy liar.

"In Vermont."

Vermont. Was that a kingdom or a township? Either way it sounded far away from home.

"In the United States."

The united what?

Ariel smiled smugly. "All right, Vector, joke's over. I don't know which one you are, but you'd better knock it off."

The faces above her looked at one another, as if they didn't know what she was talking about. Though what could explain this strange place if not one of Vector's cruel tricks?

"Who's Victor?" George asked.

If it wasn't one of Vector's tricks, Ariel pondered, afraid to go much further.

At that instance, the door burst open to admit some wretched, sobbing creature. He fell to his knees at the side the bed.

"Michael!" Joanna exclaimed.

"Oh, Cupcake," the man sobbed, addressing Ariel. "I came as soon as I heard. I didn't even take the time put the park brake on the Turbo-z"

"Boy he's really upset," Dick murmured.

Ariel took pity on the mop of blonde hair lowered on her mattress. She lifted the poor man's head, his tears spilling onto her hand. She found his face obscured by the strange eyepieces he wore. Tenderly, Ariel plucked them off, to see the eyes that wept for her, and found the face of a prince.

"Michael," Ariel said softly, liking the sound of the name. She smiled, and he smiled back through his tears.

If it wasn't one of Vector's tricks, Ariel finished without fear, perhaps she had died and gone paradise.

* * * * * 

Joanna slunk downstairs to the lobby. Dick was sitting on the sofa, reading the Sports page, and she didn't want to attract his attention. If she did, she would have tell him what she didn't want to tell him and what he didn't want to hear. He'd only get upset and start yelling, which wasn't good for his blood pressure.

She would just tiptoe to the kitchen and hide among the stacks of dirty dishes. She had almost reached the dining room.

"Joanna, why are you sneaking around?" Dick asked from behind the baseball scores.

"I'm not sneaking," Joanna lied. "I was just on my way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee."

"Oh," Dick said, "I thought maybe you were just trying not to stir up the dust."

"Now, Dick, it isn't that bad."

"No it's worse," Dick said, rising. He folded his paper neatly and set it down on the coffee table next to the overflowing ashtrays. "Just look at this. Ever since Stephanie fell down the stairs, she hasn't lifted a finger around here."

"She's not Stephanie," Joanna scolded gently, walking over to the sofa. "Remember what Dr. Davis said. We have to humor her or she might never snap out of it."

"Joanna, it's been two weeks. If we humor her much longer, the health department's going to have the last laugh."

"Honey, keep your voice down," Joanna glanced at the staircase. "She might hear you."

"Good," Dick whispered fiercely. "Maybe the princess of Cameraland, or whatever she calls it, will take pity on her subjects and pick up a broom."

Joanna sighed. Maybe he wouldn't mind hearing what she didn't want tell him after all. "Well, dear, I have a feeling this place is going be spotless by nightfall."

"Oh? Why's that? "

"Because," Ariel announced from the landing, "I've bought three handmaidens."

"You what?" Dick shouted.

"I know, I know," Ariel said, prancing down the last few steps and proceeding to the lobby's mirror. "One can't really buy a handmaiden. But I would say that a lifetime pledge to cater to your every whim in exchange for room and board is close enough, wouldn't you?"

Dick Loudon was speechless. Having a maid that didn't work he could handle; in fact, he was used to it. Having his maid hire three others to do her work was something else again. Where were they going to put three more non-paying guests for one thing? For another, what type of people would agree to cater someone's every whim merely for room and board? Dick had nearly found his voice when the front door swung open and in stepped three familiar and rather fetid figures.

"Hi. I'm Larry. This my brother, Daryl, and this my other brother, Daryl. Where is the Princess Ariel so that we may commence groveling at her feet?"

"Right behind you, Larry," Joanna said helpfully.

Immediately, the brothers turned and fell to their knees.

"No need for that," Ariel said, carefully stepping away, "yet." She looked over at Dick, whose eyes were demanding an explanation. "Okay, so they're not maidens. But they did agree to cater to my every whim."

"Stephanie," Dick said, 'you can't just--"

"Knock it off!!" Ariel shouted at the brothers. They scrambled to their feet. "Good. Now, get to work."

Larry ran for the basement, Daryl ran for the suites, and Daryl ran for the kitchen.

"What were you saying?" Ariel asked Dick.

Dick smiled weakly, silently praying that Larry and his brothers could do more good than harm. "Nothing."

* * * * *

Ariel adjusted her wide-brimmed straw hat as she lounged under the poplar, careful not let too much sun touch her face. She untied and retied the sash under her chin, admiring Michael's muscles as he spread their picnic lunch.

"Your moonlight serenade last night was wonderful, Michael."

"Why, thank you, Cupcake. Just call me your singing caballero." He chortled at his own cleverness.

"Whatever," Ariel said with a smile.

Having finished laying out the feast which had cost him a small fortune, Michael fixed his darling a plate. He presented it with a courtly, "My lady."

"It looks delicious."

"As do you."

"Oh, Michael," Ariel blushed as she took the plate from his hands, "do go on."

They passed a leisure and fulfilling afternoon, with Michael eating up most of the feast and Ariel eating up all of his compliments. She had never met such an eloquent speaker or so charming an admirer. Who would have thought that one could compare beauty to a summer's day?

* * * * *

It was late. Ariel let herself in quietly, knowing that everyone else at the inn would be asleep by now. She latched the door with a sigh. She could have never done anything like this back home, gone out at night without a chaperone. Vermont was the most wonderful place she had ever been!

Even so, it was a little spooky climbing the stairs and finding her room in the darkness. She was glad she had the teddy bear Michael had won at the carnival for protection. (Though she almost wished he had won her a candle.) Once in her bedroom, she switched on the lamp.

"I think I'll call you Woje," Ariel whispered to the bear as she settled him onto her bed, "after my doggie back home."

Home. The word held less meaning every time she said it. Like a dream she could never recapture.

Ariel patted Woje's head and proceeded to her vanity table. It was her nightly routine to brush out her hair and fantasize just before she went to bed. Naturally, her thoughts turned to Michael Harris.

His nice soft hair. His baby blue eyes. His hearty laugh. His smart clothing. The picnics. The serenades. The dancing..

Ariel caught glimpse of herself in the mirror and was surprised to find that her face looked heavy. She blamed it on the lateness of the hour and resolved never to stay up past ten o'clock again. Her face looked positively fat! And her eyes looked small and brown and—

"Marko!" Ariel shrieked, jumping her feet. "What are you doing in my mirror?"

"Sorry," Marko said, stepping out of the mirror and through the table. "I couldn't find another entrance."

"But I thought you were dead," Ariel quavered.

Ariel stared in wonder at the corpulent figure before her. She had never met a real live ghost before. She had met a few of the unread, but never a ghost. She had begun think that they didn't exist.

Wait a minute, Ariel thought herself. What if they didn't exist? What if all his-- the canned food, the shopping malls, and dear Michael-- was Paradise?

"Does that mean I'm dead, too?" Ariel asked breathlessly.

"Naaa," Marko said. "We Just made a mistake, that's all."

"What? Who made a mistake?"

"Ariel, I think you better sit down."

Ariel sunk to the bed and reached for Woke. Marko sat down beside her.

"Well! Remember three weeks ago when you fell down the steps at Blackpool's castle?"

"Yes."

"Well, when you, uh, hit bottom you sort of, well, died."

"I thought you just said I wasn't dead!" Ariel exploded, jumping to her feet.

"Just for a minute," Marko explained. "Somebody made a mistake. You weren't supposed to die, so we sent you back, but somehow you and Stephanie—"

"Stephanie," Ariel echoed, dropping to her vanity seat. "You mean there really is a Stephanie Vanderkellen?"

"On this planet, yes."

"This planet?." Ariel's tiny mind spun. "I'm on another planet?"

"I know it's a lot to take in, Ariel," Marko said gently, "but we don't have much time."

Ariel tightened her hold on Woje. "I'm listening."

"Okay/' Marko said, "I'll take it from the top. You fell down the staircase at Blackpool's castle and Stephanie Vanderkellen fell down the staircase here at the exact same time. Neither of you was supposed to die, but a couple of us were a little hasty."

"And then?"

Marko sighed. "Then, we got a good chewing out and were ordered put you back. You must have gotten mixed up transit."

Ariel was staring past Marko at the framed picture of Michael, which sat on her-- Stephanie's night table. "It's not fair! How could you do such a thing?"

"Honest mistake," Marko shrugged. "Anyway, I've come to correct it. I've come to take you home, and Stephanie's late uncle has been sent to fetch her."

"Home," Ariel said softly, but her eyes drifted back to Michael's photo.

"You'll have to forget him, Ariel."

Ariel started. How did Marko know what she was thinking? Then again, he knew of Stephanie Vanderkellen. She wondered what else he knew, and how much he was allowed tell.

Marko grinned as if he had read her mind again. "Or find the one back home."

Ariel rushed forward and threw her arms around Marko's neck.

"Oh, Marko you're an angel!"

"I know."


End file.
